Blood and Trust
by Proud Vixen
Summary: This is the introduction to a story in which the descendants of Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty are tied together by a mysterious Tara Silver. They may possibly discover what is more impotant: A blood fued between families or trust and friendship.


Blood and Trust

Author's Note: If I am politically incorrect about personalities and whatnot, don't attack me. It's my friend who's obsessed with Sherlock Holmes, not me. Actually, you might know some of her stories on fanfic. I'm pretty sure she just goes by Haley Moore... Oh , now I'm off track... Anyways... Back to the story...Wait, one more thing: normal type: Holmes; underlined type: Tara; bold type: Moriarty. That's it. I think I'm done.

Introduction

This is utterly ridiculous. Who in all of London- no, I rephrase that: who in all of the world has heard of receiving detention for being intelligent? Well, good world, I have. In fact, I'm in detention for being intelligent right now. Mrs. Reek is perhaps the maddest woman in all time. But, as they say in that loony old country of France, C'est la vie. Oh, who cares much for France anyway? I prop my head up with my arm and recall the events of today. It started well; all James did was push me around a bit. Tara looked at me and smiled, even. Then came English with Mrs. Reek. "Sherlock," she screeched out that name of mine I dread; I'm named after some poor wretch who died a long time ago. I prefer to be called by my middle name, Scott. The lady continued, "Can you tell me what Romeo must have been thinking when Balthasar informed him of Juliet's funeral?"

Now what kind of idiotic question is that? "No teacher, I cannot. No one could; mind readers are quite nonexistent. But if I were to take a guess, he must have been completely ripped apart in his emotions. I'm not a mind reader, though, so I'm probably wrong. Did you know that 98 percent of the time we guess what someone is thinking, it's wrong?"

"Don't get smart with me young man!" the teacher's face slowly started turning the stunning shade of a ripe tomato as her hideous voice started rising.

"You would rather me play the idiot? That's an odd opinion coming from a teacher," I replied calmly.

Here comes the explosion. "Mister Holmes, would you like to pay a visit to the office?!" she yelled this at me. She really must learn to control that temper.

"No, as a matter of fact I wouldn't…" I couldn't continue; she might have hit me. I got up, walked to the door, and closed it quietly behind me. I could feel the eyes of the rest of the class on my back. They must be surprised; those aren't my usual actions in class. Or out of class for that matter. The office wasn't very interesting; the assistant principal just handed me a note telling me I had detention after school for one hour. They couldn't have just told me? What a waste of paper. So now here I am, sitting in a desk awaiting my allotted time of one hour to be up. I look at the clock; make that an hour and five minutes- I'm five minutes early. The classroom door opens, admitting Tara Silver. Wait, what? What is Tara doing in detention? I'm not going to ask her of course. I look down at my arms which are crossed on top of my desk. Too late, she's seen me. She smiles and decides to take the desk next to me.

I cast her a sideways glance; she catches my eye and opens her mouth to speak.

"Miss Silver, do you have something to say? If you do, you will have to wait until your detention hour is up," comes Mr. Carlson's voice from the doorway, worksheets fresh from the copy machine in hand. Damn, I thought he would take longer. Oh well, he's been a warden before; he leaves a lot. I think he thinks that bad students are a waste of time.

"I did have something to say, Mr. Carlson, but I would love to wait to speak until I am finished being detained." He shoots me one of his evil 'shut the hell up' glares and I, well, I shut the hell up. I look back over at Scott, who's trying to pretend that he wasn't just staring at me, then I look away and pretend that I don't know that he was staring at me. That kid's smart, but he sure isn't too great with the opposite sex. I look back up at Mr. Carlson. Good, he's grading or something of the like and is very bad at noticing the general passing of notes. I take out my note book and rip out a sheet of paper. I write, _That was pretty cool in English today_. I pass it over to Scott. He looks at me with a look of bewilderment and maybe an excitement of being included in this note thing. With my eyes, I urge him to take the paper, which he does with a hesitant glance at the teacher. I watch him read it then he takes out a pen and scrawls a hasty reply. I take the note back and read,_ Um… thanks?_ Just then the door opens and in comes James. Ha. Wonder what he's done now? He didn't beat up poor Scott again- he's sitting next to me.

"You're late Mr. Moriarty," says Mr. Carlson without looking up.

His reply was a shrug and, "I was busy." That kid is crazy. He hasn't been himself today, though. He spots me sitting next to Scott and raises his eyebrow at me. Good, hope he's jealous. This boy's been after me since the third grade when I punched him in the face for making me drop my ice cream cone. Stupid jerk. I still haven't forgiven him for that yet. Sad for Scott though; he probably doesn't know it, but the reason James gives him so much shit is because he caught him smiling back at me once a couple years ago. Speaking of Scott, he sort of sank lower in his chair when he saw James walk in.

I give the note back to Scott with the words, _Don't worry, he won't mess with you with me around- if he did, he'd probably regret it later._ As he reads, he sorta smiles a little and hands the note back without writing anything.

**I reach over and take Tara's note and read it. Good, nothing weird, like, 'Do you want to see a movie later?' I decide to take a part in this note-writing._ How do you know I wouldn't do anything to him?_ I hand her back the note; she turns her head and glares at me, then writes: _You're afraid of me, that's why. Why can't you mind your own business?_**

**I chuckle (earning an evil 'shut the hell up' look from Carlson) and write, _If you want me to mind my own business, why did you give back the note? Idiot. _When she reads it, she shoots me an evil glare and turns completely away from me and starts note passing with that bastard Scott again. God, I hate him. Maybe I should try a different tactic. Could Tara maybe like me more if I could make friends with the kid? Hmm…An interesting plan…Maybe just interesting enough to work. I glance back up at Carlson. Good- he's straightening his tie- a sign that he is ready to go into the teachers lounge and flirt with some of the ladies in the building. I'm not making this up- I watched him once. He leaves and closes the door softly behind him.**

**Once I'm sure he's out of earshot, I say to Tara, "So, Tara, what are you here for?"**

**"None of your business."**

**Well, if she won't talk to me, I'll talk to Holmes. "So…" this is harder than I thought. "Uh…Holmes." He looks at me with surprise, due either to the fact that I'm talking to him without a hint of mockery in my voice or to the fact that I might be able to beat him up in detention. He positions his feet. He's ready to run. Always, Holmes has been more of one for flight rather than fight. Better to get away unscathed than to never get away at all, I suppose. I am no such coward. "I saw what you did in English today…I didn't think you had it in you."**

**"Um…is that supposed to be a compliment?"**

**"Yes, it is." Awkward moment of silence. Tara's mouth is hanging open in bewilderment. I look at her. " Tara, close your mouth. It is very unbecoming."**

"And who're you to say what is and what isn't becoming?" Tara answers between clenched teeth.

I was still in a state of shock when my curiosity got the best of me and I asked, "What did the two of you do to get here?" I might as well ask; everyone knows about my adventures in the English room.

"I skipped," James Moriarty, my own personal bully, replies with a shrug.

Tara finally turns around to face him. "What'd you skip?"

Another shrug, "Math."

"Oh. But aren't you good at math?" Tara really is quite inquisitive, though she tries so hard not to be.

"Yeah, it's too easy, which makes it boring, which makes me fall asleep. So, I decided to skip it today."

"How'd you get caught?" What'd I tell you? Tara- the ever persistent question-asker.

"A teacher asked me where I was supposed to be and I said, 'Where are _you _supposed to be?' The teacher looked really pissed, which made me wonder what he was really doing…"

"And…?" Tara encourages him to finish the story.

"So I looked around and saw this very blonde Barbie-looking girl with the shortest skirt I have ever seen in my life on. The teacher was taping her with his phone walking up the stairs." Tara's mouth drops open again. James looks at her and says, "What, don't you watch the news? That's all teachers do now; it must be a sport or something."

"Yeah, I suppose…"

"How did you know?" I ask quietly. Tara and James look at me.

"How did I know what?" James answers with a question.

"That he was watching the girl? Was he yelling at you while taping the girl? You would think that the girl would have heard and saw the teacher tape her or something."

"Oh, he hid the camera before he started yelling at me."

"So you saw it happen before he started yelling?" I really am trying my best to understand this.

"No. Are you really this thick Holmes? The teacher was behind me, beginning to walk up the stairs. Why would the teacher pick me to yell at Holmes? There is a student right in front of him, and yet he chooses to yell at me. Don't you see?" James seems really frustrated. I don't think I've ever been called thick in my life. He continues, "He thought I saw him (which I didn't) so he needed to get me away from the scene of the crime; make it seem like he was doing nothing at all. He wouldn't want to yell at the said girl, he was hoping that she would still be there when he was through with me."

"Ah. That makes sense then," I reply. I guess he's smarter than I give him credit for.

"Of course it does." The urge cannot be resisted; I roll my eyes. "Are you rolling your eyes at me Holmes?"

I quickly avert my gaze and reply, "O-of c-course not." Damn my inarticulate mouth. James glances at Tara and then seems to be trying to control himself. A rare sight indeed.

"I'm sorry Holmes; let's call it a truce." Moriarty had to fight to get that out. Wait, did I hear him right? I go over his words in my head, _I'm sorry Holmes; let's call it a truce. _No. I must have heard the words wrong. It was probably, 'You're an idiot Holmes; you are the biggest douche.'

"Well, are you gonna say anything?" Moriarty's voice cuts through my thoughts.

"Um…what did you just say?"

"I asked you if you were gonna say anything."

"No…no, before that."

Moriarty sighs. "Don't make me say it again."

"He said he's sorry and he wants to call it a truce," Tara seems astonished.

"Oh, so I did hear right. No doubt it's a plan to completely humiliate me… Honestly Moriarty, haven't you done enough of that already?"

"It's not a plan to humiliate you. I'm just…uh… tired of making you look like an idiot, that's all." Seeing mine and Tara's raised eyebrows, he adds, "Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to make a fool out of someone every day?"

"No, I don't," I reply icily. "Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be made the fool by someone every day?"

"Now that I think about it, no, but it really doesn't matter. So what do you say? Truce?" He holds out his hand, ready to shake on it. I consider my options. It would be nice not to be picked on constantly… But what if right now he's making me the butt of some cruel joke? Well, what if he's not? What have I got to lose anyway?

"Fine then, truce," I say as I shake his hand. An almost malicious smile creeps over his face. What have I gotten myself into?


End file.
